Wrong Man, Right Kiss

by Red Garnier

  And he didn’t want to be reckless and stupid.

  He’d been moving his pieces all in the direction of one goal so he could stake his claim on her once and for all.

  Now he’d prove to his family that he did not need them, and that he would never hurt a single hair on Molly’s beautiful head. He needed them to see that he was worthy of her, that he wanted her for real and not just for sex—though of course when that happened, it was going to be damned amazing, too. But more importantly, he needed to show them that he would do whatever it took to have her. Even cut his ties with them all.

  If Molly was ever going to settle down with a guy, she was settling down with Julian. Whether they liked it or not.

  And as for Molly…

  He had to make her see that he was the man for her and always had been—and once and for all, he had to finish what he’d started the night he’d kissed her heart out at the masquerade party.

  Four

  Something about sleeping in Julian’s apartment made Molly restless.

  Well past midnight, still tortured by the memory of Garrett’s kiss, she found herself tiptoeing down the hall toward the kitchen in the hopes of finding some sort of sleep aid in his cupboards. She had her heart set on Sleepytime Tea, but valerian root or chamomile would do, too. Hey, at this point, she’d take anything as long as it meant quieting her troubled brain and getting some rest.

  But what she found on her way to the cupboards was a beautifully sculpted, seminaked man instead—and the sight of him was sure to give her permanent insomnia.

  Wearing only a pair of white cotton briefs that hugged his buttocks perfectly, he leaned against the open refrigerator door, his head stuck inside as he surveyed the food.

  Molly stopped in her tracks, her heart flying to her throat.

  The warm fridge light silhouetted Julian’s magnificent form, shamelessly caressing every dent, every shadow and every sharp rise of lean, ripped muscle. Her breasts pricked unexpectedly. And suddenly he was not just Julian.

  He was every inch…Julian John Gage.

  Sexy playboy, dangerous male.

  Not a hero, not harmless and definitely not just a friend.

  A tremor rushed down her legs as her eyes helplessly drank up what was so blatantly on display, aided by the moonlight that filtered through the windows; she took in the sinewy arm folded above his head as he leaned forward, the broad muscled back, the lean hips and…the rest. His long, muscled calves and hamstrings, his hard buttocks under that snug white cotton.

  Her temperature skyrocketed. Not because he was utterly sexy in a way that made her want to swim in ice right now, but because she was here. With him. At midnight. And he was about 90 percent naked. When it should be Garrett here, Garrett almost naked, Garrett in her head.

  Her hormones clearly knew nothing of reason. They burst into action until she could feel the hot little pinpricks all over her body, to her utter confusion and despair.

  Even her fingers tingled at her sides with a painful itch to trace the muscles on his back, determine the texture, the hardness, paint the thick ropes straining in his forearms. For a wild moment she kidded herself that it was the artist in her; it had to be. For she felt the same fever she did when she was gripped with the need to paint.

  Except now she was gripped with the need to trace the length of Julian John.

  With finger paint. All of him. She thought wildly that if he were a canvas, she would not leave an inch of him unpainted except his lips. He was just too masculine to wear them any way but bare.

  But she could still trace them with her fingertips and find out what sort of power they held when they kissed her. She could explore the thick bottom one and then the top one and she might even kiss them again just to be sure her memory wasn’t failing her…

  Molly, you love Garrett, you tramp!

  Shocked by the untoward thoughts, she snapped back to the present and swallowed a lump in her throat. An awful guilt surfaced inside her. Had she actually been thinking of accosting Julian in his own kitchen? What was wrong with her?

  Ever since that evening at the masquerade, it felt as if her entire life had been flipped over as easily as a pancake.

  Now she could not stop thinking about kissing, touching, tasting, wanting. Garrett had awakened the desperate needs of a woman inside her, and Molly felt so hyperaware of her body now, even her reactions to Julian were uncommonly, embarrassingly…unsettling.

  See what you’ve done to me, Garrett? Apparently I’m a nymphomaniac now.

  “Um. Did you forget you have a guest here?” she blurted out from her spot a few feet away.

  Julian’s shoulders stiffened almost imperceptibly. His head dropped an inch or so, that gorgeous mane with sun-streaked strands that were lighter than the others. “Damn—you’re supposed to be asleep, Molls.” He pulled his head out of the fridge, his chin dropping an inch or so as he faced her, his hair catching the light just right.

  “People with insomnia don’t sleep, Jules.”

  Molly should go back to her bedroom, she supposed, but being squeamish about a man’s near-nakedness did not go with her artistic persona. She had to treat it as a natural state of being, or at least that was what she told herself as she woodenly walked over and opened and shut cabinet doors in search of her tea.

  “Here, have some milk, always works for me.” He shoved the carton he’d just drunk from in her direction.

  Molly took it and set her lips over the place his mouth had been, trying not to get too hooked on that discomforting detail as she downed a big gulp. Swallowing, she said, “Ah, it’s cold,” and handed it back, all her efforts focused solely on not noticing how velvety smooth and hairless his massive chest was.

  She had never felt five feet tall when she was with Julian until today. When he seemed to hulk over her, appearing for the first time in her life almost…threatening. Extremely male.

  “I’m going back to bed,” he said, shoving the milk back into the fridge and shutting the door.

  “Can I come sleep with you?” Molly blurted out to his retreating back.

  Suddenly she just knew if she went back to sleep alone in her room, she would be haunted. By her masked man. And by Julian in sexy white cotton briefs. She desperately wanted to watch a movie with him and snuggle and sleep and get her best friend back. She ached for him to make her feel…safe. Like when they were kids.

  “No,” he answered without a single backward glance.

  “Don’t be a jackass, Jules.”

  “I don’t sleep with women I can’t take to bed,” he yelled back.

  “I’m not women. I’m just me.”

  “Precisely.”

  She scowled and said, “Just put some pants on and I’ll bring my pillow. Come on, don’t be mean.”

  She heard silence, then receding footsteps down the hall.

  “Julian?” she called back tentatively.

  His laugh made her hope for a moment, but then he spoke. “Good night, Molls!”

  And so Molly cursed him all the way to her room, climbed alone into her bed and didn’t sleep a wink.

  She didn’t fare so well on the second night, or on the third, either. Even though she tried every night to get him to invite her for a sleepover, the man’s will was iron. She was surprised she couldn’t bend him to her plea at all, but she was more surprised by the amount of effort Garrett had been putting into stopping her from getting into a “relationship” with Julian. Which amounted to zero so far.

  That was not the approach of a man in love!

  Then again, Garrett had always been the most hardheaded of the three, so he’d probably need extra incentives in order to react to her provocations.

  Molly fantasized about the sexy clothing she could wear to catch his attention. She was growing so desperate,
she even imagined pulling out that stupid wench costume again—but what sane person wore that? Nobody, that was who. Only Molly Devaney on a dare from Julian.

  By the sixth night and seventh morning at Julian’s, Molly decided she was being tortured. Cranky from lack of sleep and out of sorts from painting all night, she began to wonder if she might have taken too deep of a plunge into this whole “relationship.” She’d barely even seen Garrett, much less talked to him, yet oh, boy, she’d been seeing plenty of Julian John.

  Of course seeing him seminaked in the kitchen that first night took the gold.

  But the close silver went to the times when he had breakfast in those linen drawstring pants that drove her crazy. He had several in different colors, and when the sunlight hit them at just the right angle, she could almost see through them. It was torture trying not to.

  Like having an open chocolate bar stare back at you for hours and trying not to eat it. It was crazy.

  And then watching all those bare shoulders and biceps and triceps and lats and traps and pecs and all that hairless tanned skin moving and flexing as he had breakfast nearly catapulted her to internal combustion. He was just too…defined. His virility too overwhelming to endure when she’d had no sleep.

  But on the other hand, the bantering between them was wonderful.

  Julian usually read the paper while Molly eyed all the junk mail, and this morning he’d accused her of being the only person he knew who actually enjoyed reading it. They’d laughed about that, among other stuff. And yet there were also moments that felt…serious. Too serious.

  Every time Molly rose for more coffee, she caught Julian staring at her bare legs that peeked from under her long T-shirt. She had never in her life been more self-conscious of her walk until she came back to the table with his smooth green eyes admiring her every step. To cover up her awkwardness, she’d blurt out a silly question and Julian would jerk his gaze back to her face, asking a distracted, “What?” as if he had not even heard her.

  It was not like him at all; he was usually as sharp as a tack.

  Today, his teasing had continued as he drove her to her old place. Once again he mentioned her clothes. But this time his remarks had felt strangely…intimate.

  He didn’t exactly say her flowered sundress came from her “blender” collection, he merely said, eyes glinting in mirth, “You almost look naked without a single paint mark on you.”

  Naked.

  Molly still wondered why her stomach had twisted like a pretzel at the word, but just the prospect of him seeing her naked made her head spin wildly. Now she waved goodbye to Julian from her front door as his Aston Martin rolled around the curve, a dazed smile lingering on her lips.

  She’d promised to catch a ride home with Kate later today, once she managed to pack more of her paint supplies and found herself a dress to wear to tonight’s event, a small housewarming for Landon and his wife, Beth. Although the couple had been married for two years, they’d never really taken the time to honeymoon until now. At first, they’d married because it suited Landon’s business purposes and would help Beth could regain custody of her son, David. But soon they’d fallen madly in love. Now their turbulent waters had calmed and they had one of the most loving marriages Molly had ever seen.

  This was the first time Julian and Molly would face all the Gages at once.

  The first time they would face Garrett and make him realize he was an idiot for letting Molly go.

  And suddenly, sexy and sophisticated wouldn’t do.

  Suddenly it was crucial that Molly look stunning.

  Using the key neatly hidden in the potted fern outside her door, she quickly entered the apartment to the aroma of baking: cinnamon, cardamom and every scent she associated with home.

  Her heart swelled at the sight of their nice, tidy place looking cozy as usual. It was prime-time girly, scattered with lacy pillows and throws on the couches and colorful accessories. Even Molly’s old teddy bear sat contentedly under a Tiffany lamp.

  After sequestering herself for days in an ultramasculine bachelor pad, the feminine vibe in their small one-story home appealed to her. Right then, she decided to take some of her pink pillows to Julian’s place. She needed to make herself more at home if she was going to be there for a while, plus she definitely planned to stock up his cupboards with her beloved Sleepytime Tea.

  “Okay, what is going on with you?”

  Molly spun around to find Kate standing in the kitchen archway, her red hair tied in a ponytail, a frilly apron around her waist and a what-in-the-world expression on her face.

  People used to say Kate had so much energy the sun would burn out before she did. They were right; she was always doing something.

  “I just came for some more clothes. Julian’s car is so impractical a kid can fit more stuff in a bike basket, I swear,” Molly said.

  When Kate’s expression didn’t soften, Molly went to the kitchen to give her a hug, which might have been easier if Kate wasn’t holding a bowl.

  “I can smell something’s cooking, Molly. I’m like your mother and sister and father all in one.”

  “And I smell cinnamon.”

  Molly peeked at all the yummy offerings on the kitchen island and selected several muffins to take to Julian. She shoved them into a brown paper bag and rolled it closed with a lot of noise.

  “Aww, you always do this to me,” Kate said, exasperated, setting down her bowl with a plunk. “Those muffins happen to be for Landon and Beth’s welcome-back party, Moo. I’ll bake some for you tomorrow, okay?”

  “Fine,” Molly grumbled. Already halfway to her room, she retraced her path to where her sister stood and handed her the paper bag. Instead of leaving, though, she stared into eyes that were clear and blue and almost identical to hers.

  Her chest felt so heavy today, she just ached to be truthful with her sister.

  They’d always been close with each other. As tight as two people who were left alone in the world could possibly be. But both of them were creatively inclined and tended to disappear into their own private bubbles of imagination half the time. Molly had been known to spend months locked away, painting away her restlessness. Kate cooked her heart out as well so that by the end of the day they were both too tired to even remember that they had lives outside their jobs, jobs which also happened to be their hobbies.

  Kate had always been there for Molly, a shoulder to lean on, always supportive but not suffocating. But rarely in all these years had they actually discussed men. Or the strange feelings a woman might have toward them.

  It was as though they both tried to pretend men did not exist in their lives. Or maybe just pretend that, other than their wonderful relationship with the Gages, they didn’t need any man at all.

  Molly had been perfectly content with that pretense because she had Julian John’s friendship. And he counted for a hundred men. So she’d never felt she lacked any male attention at all.

  Until that one night, when his brother had made her feel wanted.

  Until that one night when she’d been kissed and fondled until she’d burst. Literally.

  Now Molly couldn’t seem to stop craving that extra spark in her life. That wonderful feeling she’d felt as those hot lips, those expert hands, had reminded her she was a living, breathing woman who deserved a man’s love. Because why the hell not?

  But how to inform Kate of her masquerade escapade with one brother when she was now supposed to be the other’s lover?

  Molly just couldn’t talk about Garrett yet. It was still impossible to mention that kiss that had flipped her whole life upside down. But at least she could mention something else that was gnawing at her.

  “Julian hates my wardrobe,” she blurted at last. She hated how her stomach cramped at the admission. And she loathed remembering how cockily Julian had assured her that
this “starving artist look” would not do anything for Garrett. Damn him anyway for making her feel insecure.

  Kate’s eyes widened, then she cocked an I-told-you-so brow. “Now, why am I not surprised to hear that?”

  “Because you’ve said the same. There. Does it please you, Kay? That he thinks I dress bad? Because the last thing it gives me is pleasure.”

  Suddenly, just remembering the sexiness of that woman she’d seen in Julian’s apartment made Molly flush in anger all over again. She had to look better than her. She had so many other looks in her wardrobe, not just the “blender” ones. Jules would see.

  Eyebrows joining over a nose that was dotted with freckles, Kate took a step to scrutinize Molly more closely. “Molly, I don’t get you. You haven’t called in days and when I text you, you tell me you’re flying in Julian’s airplane over to South Padre Island to get an hour of suntanning with him? Your last two unfinished paintings for the exhibit sit all alone down the hall in your studio with your deadline looming…and after years of listening to me beg you to let me give you a makeover, you finally decide to do it because of what he said? What is going on with you two? I couldn’t sleep last night—I had to call Garrett. I’m worried sick!”

  “Garrett? Well, what did he say?”

  Looking genuinely mortified, Kate shook her ponytail and rubbed her temples. “He said to relax, that he’ll talk to you. I just don’t understand how this could come on so suddenly without me noticing what you two were up to. I thought this would happen later, when you were more experienced and mature.”

  “Forget that! Tell me what tone Garrett used. Was he angry? Concerned? Kind of possessive?”

  Maybe the idiot was so arrogantly certain of Molly and her feelings for him, he thought he still had her in his grasp. Well! She’d just have to set the man straight, wouldn’t she? And play harder to get with him than ever. In fact, Julian would know just how to take care of that tonight.

  “I don’t remember exactly what else he said, but I’m truly mortified over this. Moo, I thought you were a virgin until now?”